


Again and Again

by INMH



Series: trope-bingo Fanfiction Fills 2018 (1st Half) [10]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Humor, Immortality, Somewhat Disturbing Content/Imagery, Strong Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Immortal!AU. Bond’s never let minor things like bumps and bruises and badly-broken necks hold him back.





	Again and Again

“Oh, not _again_.”  
  
“ _You alright, Bond?_ ”  
  
“Yes, yes, just need to pop my neck back in again.”  
  
Bond got to his feet and put one hand on the side of his head, the other bracing itself on the place where his neck met his shoulder. It was going to be terribly uncomfortable and he knew it, but damn if he could walk around with his head parallel with the ground; people would start to stare.  
 _  
One, two, three-_  
 ** _  
KRRRCK._**  
  
“ _Gah!_ ” Bond hissed, hands pressing more gently against his neck now to feel for the alignment, to ensure that the bones were (at least) close enough to their original positions that they could heal properly. “Christ, that hurt.”  
  
“ _Would you like me to send a chiropractor?_ ” Q’s voice came in dryly over the earpiece.  
  
“I’ve done this a million times before, Q; they’d only fuck it up.” After a moment or two, the pain began to reduce; after about two minutes had passed, Bond gently turned his head from left to right, and felt only a small twinge of pain and a little resistance. Good enough for now, at any rate. He made for the door. “Alright, I’m going.”  
  
“ _Do be careful; I’m not interested in finding out just how much abuse you can take before you actually manage to die._ ”  
  
“Don’t you worry, Q, I can take plenty,” Bond remarked with a scoff as he, without an ounce of caution to be had, yanked open the door. “It will be a cold day in Hell before some half-baked environmental terrorists get the drop on-”  
 ** _  
BLAMBLAMBLAM!_**  
  
As he’d opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight, Bond had found himself facing down with five men with AK-47s- and hell if they weren’t some of the better funded eco-terrorists he’d run into before, most of the ones he’d dealt with had preferred badly-made IEDs.  
  
Unfortunately, since he’d been talking at room-level and had opened the door with such careless gusto, they had noticed him more or less immediately, and turned to start firing at him.  
  
The force of the bullets blew Bond back into the building he’d just stepped out of, and though it wouldn’t kill him, it wasn’t exactly _pleasant_ to feel tiny hunks of metal piercing his lungs, stomach, and kidneys- even less so when it became nearly impossible to breathe without choking on his own blood.  
 _  
Shit,_ Bond thought as his vision blurred and blood began to seep from his multitude of wounds. _That’s another jacket ruined beyond compare._  
  
Well, it’d all be well just so long as none of these bastards had the good sense to walk into the room and shoot him in the head; your average evil henchmen didn’t have the sense to check a body that had been so readily riddled with holes, and it was Bond’s saving grace more often than not. If anything, he enjoyed the looks on the poor bastards’ faces when he walked out, bloody but still alive, right before he killed them.  
  
He heard footsteps on the floor nearby and did his best to stay still and pretend to be dead, or at least close to it, since it was near impossible to silence his damaged lungs. The steps stopped next to his head.  
  
“Think he’s dead?”  
  
“Probably. Best to make sure, though.”  
 _  
Shit,_ Bond thought when he heard the gun cock, _these idiots don’t stand a chance, but M might actually kill-_  
 ** _  
BLAM._**  
   
[---]  
   
Q groaned and took his headset off, running his hands through his hair.  
  
Then he reached over to the phone near the computer and dialed the extension for Mallory’s office.  
  
Mallory picked up on the first ring. “ _Go ahead._ ”  
  
“Bond’s been shot, sir.”  
  
“ _What else is new?_ ”  
  
“Yes, but this time he’s been shot in the head.” Q smirked slightly at the sound of Mallory grunting a curse not-quite-far-enough away from the phone. “I’m concerned they may try to dispose of his body if we don’t-”  
  
“ _Send an extraction team,_ ” Mallory cut him off wearily. “ _Get them to pull Bond out before they can incinerate him or something similar. And Q?_ ”  
  
“Yes, sir?”  
  
“ _When he’s coherent again, send him to me. This is the third time I’ve had to send someone in to get him, and it seems he needs a refresher course on how ‘immortality is not an excuse for stupidity’._ ”  
  
“Of course, sir.” There was a ‘click’ and Q muttered, “Not that he’ll actually listen to it, he certainly hasn’t the last fifteen bloody times, but of course I’ll send him to you.” He patched into the extraction team that was set up near Bond’s location. “Carlson.”  
  
“ _Yes, Q?_ ”  
  
“Bond’s gone and been shot in the head again, we need you to pull him out.”  
  
“ _That fucking twat’s immortal and we still have to save his ass?_ ”  
  
“Unfortunately.”  
  
“ _Fine, fine, we’ll go get him. But he owes us._ ”  
  
“You can settle that with him.”  
  
“Bet your ass we will.”  
  
The line went silent, and Q sighed. “Good luck with that.”  
  
He turned around and rolled his chair over to the wall, where a dry-erase board read:  
 **  
IT HAS BEEN** _15_ **DAYS SINCE BOND’S FUCKED UP.**  
  
“Never going to see thirty days, are we Bond,” Q muttered.  
  
He erased ‘fifteen’ so that he could write in ‘zero’, and the returned to the computer to make sure the team could find Bond.  
  
-End


End file.
